Fixing Murdoc
by Gorillaz6666
Summary: After capturing 2D, taking him to his beach made entirely of plastic junk and easing him out of a deep depression, Murdoc finds himself getting much closer to his singer then he expected. 2DxMurdoc slash. Rated M for yaoi in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Author's comments:**

**My first fanfic. ^u^ 2D x Murdoc slashy-ness. (Don't like, don't read!! Simple as that, folks!!)**

**Rating: M for mild violence, explicit language and sex in later chapters.**

**Please R&R!!**

**The title name came to me when I was listening to 'Fix You' by Coldplay. It reminds me of 2D and Murdoc a lot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz.**

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A long, lanky figure crept slowly over to the sizeable window in his flat that overlooked the always-busy streets below. It's large, sunken eyes, which were rimmed with dark circles due to an immense lack of sleep leisurely panned the roads below; the cars rushing by and the endless lines of people crossing from sidewalk to sidewalk. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere. Everyone had _somewhere_ to go; somewhere where they were _needed_.

The figure remained motionless and unmoved with a vacant stare plastered on it's face. Though, the thoughts that were running through his head were anything but. It was too much. It was too soon. Too sudden. _Everything_.

It was all far too much for the young man to handle in one afternoon. He continued his vacant gaze out the window for what seem like an eternity, though only a few minutues had passed by. His muscles were tense, his eyes sore from strain as they began to twitch. His hands were shaking.

And somewhere, in the midst of his many thoughts, he could still remember the scratchy, intoxicated, and all too familiar voice … a voice he had wanted to hear for the longest time … that reconnected with him much harder than he had anticipated …

_He'd been sleeping. It was an uncomfortable sleep. But that was defiantly not abnormal. He laid solemnly on the pile of tattered blankets, strewn about on his mattress, and worn-down pillows that now sported as his sad excuse for a bed. Suddenly, a sharp ringing tune discontinued his slumber. He shuffled in his sleep, not yet brought back into reality. He stirred a bit as his eyelids slowly fluttered open, and the dimmed colors and unattractive scenery around him came into view. He sat up quickly._

_Ouch. A little too quickly. He flinched as his head pounded at the sides. His pain medication had obviously worn off sometime during his restless night. He rubbed his exhausted eyes and ran a hand through his matted cobalt locks. His overly-baggy eyes drooped at the sudden disturbance of his phone. He blinked a few times as he stared at the it; hesitating slightly before outstreching a slender arm across his bed and picking up the phone on his bedside table. He cradled it in his boney fingers and cleared his throat._

"'_e-ello …?"_

…

_No response. At first, all he could hear was static on the other end. Wrong number, maybe? Then, after a few moments, the static finally dissolved, and somewhere in the background on the other line, the young man could just make out the soft sound of seagulls singing in the distance. He sat still for a second, waiting for the caller to reply. The young man sighed heavily and then repeated himself. This time, he got an immediate answer that jolted his senses to a full extent._

"_OI! … FACEACHE!"_

_Astonished, 2D's eyes widened and he almost dropped the phone right into his lap. He recognized the voice instantly. It was a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again. A blank, dumbfounded expression washed over his face and a chill ran down his spine, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was too shocked to let anything escape his velvety lips._

_Again, the abrasive voice on the other end called out to him, this time a little harsher in tone._

"'_ay! Tusspot! I know yer there, boy. ANWER ME!"_

_2D regained a bit of composure, straightened up a little, and bit his lip tentatively. He held the phone tighter in his now wobbling hands as he addressed the caller._

"_Muds? … Murdoc? … issat … issat you?"_

_The young man heard a strong, hardy laugh come through on the other end of the line through all the static that started up once again. At the sound of the laughter, 2D's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard laughter like that in what seemed like ages. But it soon subsided, to 2D's dismay, and the man on the other line put his mouth close to the phone; his dry lips gracing it ever so slightly and spoke in an incredibly eerie tone towards the youth._

"_No, this is the jolly ol' queen 'o England …" Murdoc replied, with sarcasm dripping from his lips. He let out another good, raspy laugh before he went on, "Oh Stu … it's been so ... so long, hasn't it? Yeh?" Murdoc paused, letting out a long sigh, which made another wave of chills dash down 2D's spine. "Mmm … much, much too long. I tell you wot … I had quite a difficult time trackin' you down, you blue haired sonofabitch. But I finally found yeh!"_

_2D shuffled where he sat, feeling a tad uncomfortable under the older man's unsettling manner. He reached a shivering hand up and brushed a stray piece of bright azure hair behind his ear._

"_M-Muds … I …" Stu began, but he stopped suddenly, taking into realization the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. He swallowed it down and took a deep breath before he continued, gripping the sheets of his bed. "Oh my god … I can't believe it's you, mate. I jus' …" Stu had to pause again, this time not only to attempt swallowing the lump that was still growing bigger in his throat by the second, but to blink away tears that were on the brink of release. He felt his bottom lip start to quiver._

_Murdoc stood by on the receiving end, taking note of the singer's condition without delay. He snickered and let a low chuckle escape, remembering how touchy the singer actually was._

"_Now, now, Stu-Pot. We'll have none of that. No, no. No tears," Murdoc urged, not wanting 2D to become over-emotional. Yes, Murdoc understood that he and his friend hadn't seen nor heard from each other in almost two and a half years, but this wasn't a very appropriate time or place for 2D to have a breakdown. Plus, the Satanist knew that if 2D started crying, then he'd most likely end up in the same sorry shape. And he simply would _not _let that happen, by any means._

_2D's voice trembled as he answered the older man, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he'd already gotten so emotional so fast. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes sheepishly, silently kicking himself for being so damn sensitive. He straightened himself upright, having regained some of his sanity._

"_I … ehh … I'm sorry, Muds. I really am. It's jus' … you're … you're right. It's been way too long. Nearly free years … and we haven't talked or nuffin'!" 2D couldn't help it when his voice started cracking inadvertently._

"_I know. I … I know. But we all needed a break. You know we did," Murdoc replied awkwardly, trying to stay focused while reassuring his dimwitted friend. There was so much the boy didn't know … _

_Murdoc did not want this conversation to become more emotional then needed. He would save all the talking and explaining for later on. He had to make his point. "It just ... ended up being a much longer break then we all intended it to be …"_

_2D nodded, mutely agreeing with the bass player, though, up until that then, 2D didn't think he and his cherished bandmates would see the likes of one another ever again. 2D had always tried with every fiber in his frial body to push those kinds of terrible thoughts out of his mind. It was thoughts like those that would ultimately add to the depth of his aching depressions._

"_Look, 2D. I'm jus' gonna make my goddamn point. I need that brilliant voice of yours. We're gonna make a new album."_

_Suddenly, a massive wave of relief and utter stimulation ran through 2D's veins. It was finally time. They would all be reunited again … "New album?" he asked the bassist, his attitude changing quickly._

_Murdoc stifled another chuckle at 2D. "Yeah. It's gonna be absolutely __**fantastic**__, mate. I've already got some demos fer ya to listen to … an' … been startin' to write down a few lyrics too," Murdoc stopped, his voice getting noticeably quieter, " … I jus' need you 'ere, 'o course. Can't do this thing without yeh, 'D."_

_2D smiled to himself as the excitement of rejoining with his beloved bandmates continued to grow rapidly. "Hell no, you can't," he joked innocuously, "So … when exactly do ya want me at Kong?"_

_A austere, unwelcome silence invaded the conversation, which 2D hadn't expected. A muffled noise came from the other line, barely even a whisper._

" … _Kong …"_

_2D's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Yeh, Muds … Kong. When do ya want me there? Cause I could jus' pack up me fings now an--"_

"_Kong's gone, 2D."_

_Again, an awkward, rather undesirable silence draped itself over the discussion between the two. The only thing 2D could hear was the incessant calls of the gulls in the far distance and Murdoc's quiet, unsteady breathing, and even that was hardly audible. 2D's mind, meanwhile, was reeling with all the possible meanings of what Murdoc could have meant. Honestly, 2d didn't want to know. But words unrelentingly fled from his lips anyway._

"_G-gone? … Wot d'you mean 'gone'?"_

_Murdoc cleared his throat and grunted, "That's just wot I mean, dullard. You deaf or somethin'?" he spat at the other man. He waited patiently for 2D to answer, but when he got no reply, the bassist growled and tried to get through to the youth with another approach. "Ehh … well, you know 'ow Kong was like, infested with all those goddamn zombies … right?"_

_2D mumbled something indistinct before he retorted; his voice cracking again terribly. "Yeah, I do," he shuffled nervously on his bed._

"_Well, it started gettin' to the point where they were comin' 'round every corner. Jus' … everywhere. I always had to carry a rifle on my person in case one of the ugly buggers tried to make a meal outta me," Murdoc's tone started getting conspicuously louder as he spoke, "And, after a while, the whole building jus' … fell apart …"_

_2D's jaw hung wide open as he tried to take in all the new information, "Wot? Fell _apart?!_ H-how?" His eyes narrowed in bewilderment and notion, "Didn't you take care of it?"_

"_Wot the 'ell wos I supposed to do, 2D!? I wos the only one at Kong! It wos too much!"_

_2D bit his lip, "Wull … you could've at least _tried …"

_Murdoc growled and yelled defensively into the phone as his blood pressure began to rise, "I did try! I tried to patch up the cracks in the walls an' the ceiling but it all fell apart anyway! I didn't know what else to do!" His breathing was heavy when he paused. Some static went in and out of the phone lines, but it only lasted a couple of seconds. The Satanist waited for 2D to answer him, but there was nothing. Murdoc suspected that the singer was taken aback. The bass player spoke in a calmer tone, " … Kong was gonna fall apart at some point or another anyway, Stuart … even when all four of us were livin' there … the cracks started appearin' and more and more zombies were poppin' up … it was jus' too much. Kong was too old to hold up any longer. And, when the life inside Kong began to dwindle … I guess it jus' 'ad nothing left to support itself with …"_

_Again, Murdoc paused and awaited a response from the singer. A few moments passed by as the information sunk into 2D's fragile mind._

"_So … erm … wot'd you do wif Kong, then, Muds?"_

"_Mmm … I put that piece of junk up fer sale and waited for some bloke to take it off our hands."_

_2D nodded his head somberly, his eyes half-lidded. He never remembered talking to Murdoc or any of the other Gorillaz members about Kong, even when it had officially gone up for sale. The singer recalled the many months beforehand when he had, for the first time in ages, gone to the Gorillaz website to see how things were holding up. He'd remembered seeing the 'For Sale' sign and all the crossing tape around the property. He'd tried going inside Kong, but the site wasn't allowing anybody in. At first, he freaked out. He tried calling Kong Studios, to see if he could get ahold of Murdoc, but no one ever answered. He tired every day for months and months, but still, nothing. 2D tried getting any contact possible with Murdoc, but he never answered back. Soon, the line was suddenly disconnected and Stuart had eventually given up. He would check the site occasionally, to see if anybody actually bought their acclaimed studio. Nope. That 'For Sale' sign was still up whenever he went on, which didn't exactly surprise him._

"_Oh yeh … I do remember summingk about all dat … anybody eva buy it?" 2D asked openly, though in the back of his head he knew the answer would be 'no'. Kong Studios was a clubhouse for the undead, and it had started rotting from the inside out when he was last there. Moldy, blood-splattered walls, barely any lighting, and there were forlorn, decomposing corpses sprawled across the floors. Now who in their right mind would dare to purchase _that_? 'Heh … Guess _we_ did.' Stu thought to himself._

"_Are you kiddin' me? Of course not. It was a horribly haunted, miserable heap of garbage pilled on top a cruddy landfill, for Christ sake! A real load of shit, it was. Nothin' like it used to be …" Murdoc snapped back at 2D, "I knew from the start that nobody would buy it. I dunno why tha Hell I put it up for retail to begin with. It wos a pointless endeavor, really."_

_A couple minutes passed by, a chance for 2D to really take in all the information that Murdoc was throwing at him. Murdoc waited patiently, though he really did want to talk more about their forthcoming album. 2D was the first to revive the conversation._

"_So, uhh, if no one bought Kong, wot didja end up doin' wiffit?"_

_Murdoc hesitated a long while before he answered, which frightened 2D._

"_I ehh … burned it down …" Murdoc mustered, as the words escaping his lips singed his insides and scorched his tongue._

_Shocked beyond belief, 2D had to quickly clamp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming. Without warning, tears welled in the corners of his widened eyes and they soon came streaming down his face before he had a chance to wipe them away. He choked and stifled as he tried to hold back his cries as best he could._

_On the other line, Murdoc was silent, which 2D clearly hadn't noticed. He listened attentively to the singer's subdued cries and whimpers that were muffled by his hand. Murdoc felt something, something subtle, prod at his entrails. Guilt, maybe? Regret? No. These were things that Mr. Murdoc Niccals did _not _feel. For anything, or anyone._

_Minutes bypassed, and soon, the keyboardest's sobs settled. He sniffled a few times and finally wiped his stinging eyes._

"_M-Murdoc … why … how couldja do dat?!" 2D yelled directly into the receiver at the older man, the sides of his head beginning to tingle._

_2D heard Murdoc let out something that sounded like a combination of a bark and a low, deep growl, "FUCK! You dimwitted IDIOT! Didn't you hear a single word I just SAID?! The fuckin' thing was 'bout ready to fall right on top of me! I 'ad no choice! I _'ad _to light the place!"_

"_No you didn't, Murdoc!" 2D yelled back, feeling his own blood pressure begin to rise. He felt new tears form and he abruptly lowered his voice to stop it from cracking, " … My god, Muds … that was our home! Kong was our home! You fuckin' burned down __our _home, _Murdoc!"_

"_Listen here, BOY. I didn't --"_

"_No, Murdoc! YOU listen! Jus' listen! That 'miserable heap of garbage' wos our home! No matta wot you call it, no matta wot horrific, repulsive fings happened to Kong, it wos still our home, damnit!" 2D silenced a moment to catch his breath, and waited for Murdoc to shout back at him. When there was no answer, he courageously continued, "I can't believe you. You didn't even call or nuffink! Neva! Not once, Murdoc!" His eyes narrowed angrily, "Do you even know 'ow many times I tried callin' you?" Still no asnwer. "EVERY FUCKIN' DAY, MURDOC! UNTIL THE LINE WAS FUCKIN' DISCONNECTED! Guess dat wos when yeh finally decided to destory the place, eh? You didn't even botha to pick tha phone up, you tosser …" 2D's voice suddenly lowered, "It wasn't jus' YOUR place, you know. It was mine, and Noodle's, and Russ's, too."_

_At the sudden mention of the other bandmates' names, Murdoc's stomach churned. His blood was boiling, but he knew that at this point, yelling back wouldn't help the matter any. He knew that this whole argument was going to take place from the moment he dialed 2D's number. 2D needed to release his steam, so the Satanist kept quiet allowed the boy to speak._

"_We grew up in dat place, Murdoc … it …" he stopped a second, as the tears he attempted to hold in ran down his cheek and converged at his chin, " … it wos … our home. Kong … it defined our image. It made us who we were ... it made us Gorillaz."_

_"..."_

_Silence._

_For moments, there was only breathing, gulls, faint static and silence._

_2D didn't like it._

"_M-Muds? … Why ain't you yellin' at me?" 2D questioned aloud, wondering if the bassist was still in tact with him on the receiving line._

_Again, silence._

"_Murdoc?" he repeated, this time with a slight hint of anxiety in his tone. He held the phone closer up against his ear, praying that the bass player would just answer him already._

"_Wot, dullard."_

_2D let out a sigh of relief, "Oh. Thought you 'ung up on me …" he quieted down a second, as his equanimity slowly began to come back. His breathing was strung-out and lengthy and when he reached a hand up to smear away the new tears, his reddened, damp face stung at the gentle touch, "Why … ain't you yellin' at me or nuffink?"_

_Murdoc giggled bleakly at the younger man's hasty attitude change. 'Mmm. That's jus' like Stu. One minute he's goin' off tha handle, the next he's a sorry, sappy sad-sack. Wotta twat.'_

"_2D, I knew you'd get … upset … over all this. I guess I … understand where you're comin' from an' all," he lulled a few moments, thinking hard about what he was about to say to the keyboardist, "You needed to get ridda all that bottled anger."_

_2D bit his lip._

"_Oh."_

_In the midst of the discomfited hush, 2D idly fiddled with the hem of his gray blanket, adorned tenderly over his criss-crossed legs. "So, Muds … umm … if you're not at … Kong … den … where yeh at now?" he inquired._

_On the other end, the Satanist pushed all his angered, culpable, and repentant feelings aside. Though 2D couldn't see Murdoc, he could tell the mood had been lightened a great deal. "Oh, Stu. I know yer gonna fuckin' love this new place. It's absolutely lovely. We got an … incredible view of the ocean and … it certainly smells a trifle more pleasant than Kong did …"_

_2D couldn't help but giggle at the bass player's blissful tone, "Wot? You livin' at the beach now?"_

"_Ehh … nope! Even better, mate! I got us our very own private island!"_

_At this unforeseen remark, 2D's stomach did a back flip and he could literally feel his face drain in color from pale to paler. 'Oh, no. 'e can't be serious.' he thought._

"_Are you … uhh … serious?"_

"_Yeah! It's grand, it is ..." Murdoc chuckled deep in his throat, and spoke again in that unnatural, yet downright seductive tone of voice that sent prickles over 2D's arms and legs, "Our very own private, floatin' BEACH! __**PLASTIC BEACH! **__Mmm … Point Nemo …"_

"_Point … Point Nemo"?_

_Murdoc laughed loudly before he responded to the younger man's stuttering remark, "Ahh yes. Point Nemo. Mhmm. The furthest, most remote location from all civilization on the entire planet."_

_2D swallowed his terror quietly, trying to search for words. He removed his vacant stare from his quilt below him to the ceiling of his bedroom flat and closed his eyes, freash tears nipping at his eyes._

"_Murdoc, I can' go."_

_There was a succinct moment of silence, as a very stunned Murdoc took in what the youth had just stammered through the phone._

"_WOT?!" Murdoc screamed, making 2D yank the phone away from his ear, and leaving an awfully bothersome ringing sensation in return. Carefully not to damage his ear any further, 2D cautiously brought the phone up to his face again, and tried to reason with Murdoc._

"_I … like … I wanna go, Muds … I do. But … I can't," 2D faltered in a hushed tone, not wanting to make the Satanist any angrier._

_Murdoc took a lengthy, deep breath while he mentally adjusted his thoughts. 'Keep yer cool, Murdoc. Everything's gonna go as planned. Just as _you _planned it.'_

"_Why the fuck not, Stu-Pot."_

"_Wull … ehhm … I … the ocean … it jus' … scares me," 2D whispered, his voice breaking._

_Murdoc laughed heartily at the boy's response. "Yer fuckin' scared of the ocean, mate?"_

_2D winced. He didn't want to really tell Murdoc about his Cetaphobia. He never really told anybody. And he was sure that if Murdoc _ever _found out about this fear, he'd never let him live it down. But, once again, 2D found himself rambling on anyways, further ignoring his inner voices._

"_Ermm … yeah. It freaks me out. Jus' … bein' out there in tha middle of nowheres …" 2D shivered, while thoughts of sea-sickness and the awful smell of saltwater engulfed him. He wasn't exactly telling Murdoc the full truth, he didn't think that was the best idea, but he was telling him just enough._

"_Oh. Issat so? Well, 'at's quiate a shame, Stu, 'at ye don't fancy tha ocean much," Murdoc started, with a false tone of concern remaining blunt in his voice, "But, yer gonna 'afta suck it up anyways."_

_2D frowned, "I … didn't you 'ear a word I jus'--"_

_Murdoc quickly cut 2D off in mid-sentence, "Oh yeah. I 'eard ya. Crystal clear. But 2D, mate, I'm afraid you don' 'ave much of a choice in the matter, really."_

_2D wrinkled his nose up in both confusion and mild disgust at the bassist's lack of apprehension and sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again by Murdoc, who somehow sensed the singer trying to defend himself. His voice was low, candid, and terribly sinister. It rattled 2D completely from the inside out._

"_Because I've already made up my mind, see? You _will_ be coming to Plastic Beach, dullard." he paused, only to let in a soft chuckle, "Whether you like it or __**not**__."_

_And then, Murdoc hung up._

_2D's eyes enlarged until they were the size of dinner plates. He sat stone still for what seemed like forever, not wanting to process thought. He just sat there, with the warm, sweat-covered phone still attached firmly in his grasp, pressed hard against his ear. And the keyboardist waited. He waited for the singing of the gulls. He waited for the sound of waves. He waited for the static._

_He waited for Murdoc._

_Anything._

_But there was nothing._

2D opened his eyes from his dream-like recollection and caught sight of the window before him; the busy townsfolk, the buildings and factories spewing nasty black smog came into view again. The depression washed over him once more after remembering his conversation with the bassist.

After Murdoc had hung up, 2D realized then and there that there was no way he was going to be able to call him back. But he really didn't want to believe that. He didn't have caller ID, or anything that would allow him to trace the restricted call. He'd gotten mad. Really mad. He'd ended up screaming, and pleading for the bassist to call him again.

It was worse than all the other times when he found himself becoming vulnerable to his depression, as it worsened with each passing day. He'd punch pillows, kick at his walls, and do as much as he could to release his bottled fury on the material objects he considered useless surrounding his room. And occasionally, he took out the blinding rage and painful depression out on himself. Whether it be with his flick knife, shattered glass from broken furniture … anything that would make the lonely feeling and the pain go away. Anything to make himself feel better again.

Because when you're alone for too long, in such an enclosed environment, you go insane. And his pills just didn't seem to do enough for him. He yearned for someone to talk to and a presence to grasp. But 2D had no where to go. He'd figured he wasn't needed _anywhere_.

2D shook himself out of his utterly disheartening thoughts and suddenly realized his entire body was shaking violently. He felt his face get hot and a familiar wetness dulled his vision. 'God … wot am I gunna do? I wanna see Muds again. Real bad. But … I'm so afraid …'

He was about to make his way back to his bed, only to rest his tired essence, but he suddenly smelled something peculiar in the air around his bedroom. It was a _really_disgusting smell. Like, some sort of tainted poison or something. It numbed his scenes instantly. 2D saw a grey-ish fog swallow him up and something was going wrong with his vision. It wasn't his tears this time. The world around him was spinning and it was making him dizzy. Colors mixed and he was seeing double. He couldn't move, though he didn't try. He couldn't administer anything. His eyelids gradually began to close, and he started staggering back and forth. He felt himself falling forward, but he couldn't do a thing to stop it.

The last thing he heard was the sound of breaking glass.

And from there, everything went black.

---

**Author's Commets: Yep! So ... more to come, of course. This was a waaay long prologue ... DX**


	2. Chapter One

2D's eyes gently flickered open, his pale lids opening to reveal his empty, lifelessly hollow black dents. It hurt, really badly, even to do something as simple as opening his drained, onyx eyes, which exposed to him just the state of discomfort and misfortune he was currently in. Now, though our beloved blue-haired singer was defiantly _not _thesharpest tool in the shed, he was certainly more than capable of figuring out that he was most likely in some pretty deep shit. '_Fuck …' _he frowned, feeling as though his entire body was being compressed much, _much_ too tightly.

He blinked numerous times, the pain in his comatose eyes somewhat subsiding. He noticed that … wherever he was at the moment, it was dark. Really, _really_ dark. Pitch black, from what he could presently see. And cramped. He remained as still as he possibly could, in fear that in one sudden movement, something utterly dreadful would happen to him. He took this time to recover slightly and take into consideration the situation at hand, and the condition of his personal and well being. The air in the box (he quickly assumed he was in a box …) was thick and oppressive, and he breathed in short, shallow pants. Blatantly ignoring the conscience in his dulled mind to remain as unmoved as physically possible, he leisurely turned his head to the side, which was surprisingly more difficult - and painful - than he first thought it would be. A sharp ache struck the sides of his neck and all down his awkwardly curved spine, causing the singer to let our a small whimper. How long had he been in this position?

Now suddenly feeling incredibly ill at ease in this new and unfamiliar posture, with his head still tilted ineptly to the side, and his scrawny legs bent every which way, 2D bit his bottom lip and turned to the other side, hoping for an opposite result. Again, the same sharp pain ran through his neck and back. He winced, and the top of his head hit the top of the blockade that was compressing his confined body in this discomfited position. In doing so, the brim of his cap fell onto his face. _'Shit.' _He grunted, and slowly, painfully, eased his hand, which had been wriggled behind his back, to his face to put his hat back into the correct place. '_Fergot I wos even wearin' a hat.'_

Having freed his hand, he brushed some stray pieces of azure hair out of his weary face and eyes. Something was making his head hurt. Not that that wasn't odd. But 2D had a strange feeling that, aside from his already pounding migraine, something else was causing his head to throb. '_Huh … did I hit me head or summingk?_' he pondered naively to himself.

Little by little, without causing too much pain to his aching arms, 2D blindly felt around the sides of the box that was entrapping him. The space inside the box was incredibly restricted, and 2D found moving around to be both a physical hazard and simply a waste of what little energy he had left.

He let his arm fall down next to him again and allowed the moments to pass as he frantically tried to gather his thoughts, though most of it was all just a blur. Trying to recall what had happened up until then only added to the pains and throbs to his head, worsening by the second. All he remembered thus far was talking with Murdoc over the phone. He found himself growing exceedingly unnerved and he started to sweat.

Suddenly, as if his senses were unexpectedly heightened all at once, the evident scent of bitter seawater crept up on the youth. He grimaced and turned his head to the side again, whimpering. He suddenly could hear seagulls shrieking in the far distance, and waves breaking. Finally taking into realization that he _was _in fact _somewhere_, probably floating eternally in the deep depths of the dirty waters of the ocean, he let out an abrupt yelp of panic and kicked at the side of the box with the sole of his boot.

"'ay, man! Whut the Hell you doin' in there?"

Startled beyond belief at the unexpected voice, the singer silenced himself quickly and remained still, fearing for his life, and fearing the sudden, brusque stranger, who was muffled by the barriers around him. He didn't recognize the strange voice at all, to his disappointment. Not thinking, 2D threw all cautions out the window and responded the outsider, noticing that his own voice was shaky and uneven.

"Ehmm … uhh … 'e-ello?" he asked wearily, having to raise his tone slightly to make sure he was heard through the cramped box, which was becoming more and more constricted as his claustrophobia grew to new heights.

"Yo, man! Yo not s'posed ta be awake yet!" the voice barreled back, obviously a tad annoyed with the young man.

2D shuffled awkwardly in his position, trying to find any possible way to get comfortable in the confined package he was pitilessly trapped in. He now had his throbbing neck up against the bottom of the box, while his long, gangling legs were bent above him; his feet now touching the top of the box. He winced a bit, trying to get used to this new bearing. The singer was obviously unaware that on the outside, where his potential captor was bellowing about, the box he was enclosed in was shaking and shifting around violently with every little movement he made. 2D was well unaware of all the commotion we was actually causing on the exterior as he wrangled about. Suddenly, an abrupt kick shook 2D around, sending him into a fit of screams and shouts. The mysterious voice broke the air again, but this time, it was much closer. Angrier, too.

"Yo, kid, _common_! Shut up in there n' quit squirmin_'_!"

2D gave up on trying to find the most secure position, and hoped that, wherever this strange man was taking him, they would arrive there soon. He sighed a deep, vigorous sigh and rubbed the top of his head where his captor had aggressively struck him with a much too forceful kick. He kept his mouth shut tight, afraid of another assault. '_Who is dis guy_?' 2D asked himself, while trying with every bone in his brittle body to ignore the awful stench of salt water and … garbage? 2D sniffled the air again, now noticing the slight scent of burning plastic and sodden atmosphere, mixing with the salt in a most disgusting manner. He grimaced, his eyebrows knitting together in a combination of frustration and repulsion.

He tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Anything that would take his mind off the horrible odors invading his precious senses, causing his greatest fears that hid in the nadir of his mind to arise to the surface. He focused on the singing seagulls that seemed to be following he and his captor; coming closer; always crying out in that exasperating tone. '_Seagulls,_' Stu frowned, remembering some numerous … rather ungrateful encounters with the white-feathered bastards. '_Wot distasteful creatures …_'

2D shuddered. He tried to tear his attention away from the frustrating seagulls. He listened to the waves instead. He closed his eyes and pictured them in his clouded mind. Slowly swaying, back and forth, as their gentle rhythms lulled him into nirvana. He imagined the sunlight dancing off the perfectly blue waves, showing little white, radiant speckles of light on the water. He opened his eyes, and listened a bit closer to them. They seemed slightly rougher than they had a few moments before. 2D suddenly felt a feeling of absolute terror run through his blood. His fears were finally catching up to him … He didn't know where he was. He had no idea where he was going, or what was going to happen to him.

He had to say something.

"Ehh … 'ello? Is … anybody there?" the daft singer asked aloud, wondering if his captor was in earshot.

"Whut, kid?"

2D's mind became foggier for a moment, wavering. This was an incredibly unrecognizable voice, and it scared 2D. It belonged to a complete stranger. Now, 2D hadn't exactly thought about it earlier, but, he was being _kidnapped_ by someone who he didn't even know! Why in the Hell was the singer even _trying _to simply converse to this guy? Whoever he was …

"Erhmm …" 2D stuttered, letting the unsure feelings that boiled inside his body fly, "_Who … are you_?" He asked, pondering if he sounded as stupid as he thought he did. He was surprised to hear a mild chuckle arouse from the other side of the barriers that were imprisoning him.

"The name's Sun Moon Stars."

2D smiled feebly. '_at's a lovely name …' _he bit his bottom lip tentatively again, suddenly wanting to get to know his captor just a bit better. He studied his captor's profound voice. It was very deep, and somewhat musical. Musical in a … weird way. A way that only the blue-locked singer could figure out. He rested his large hands flat on his stomach and let his head fall back against the bottom of the box, sighing deeply in a mixture of provisional tranquility and ennui.

"So … err … Sun Moon Stars …" the singer initiated, leaving his lips parted slightly after echoing his kidnapper's name, making sure he spoke in a slow, steady pace, "… where umm … exactly are you takin' me?" 2D asked, a sort of melancholy tone setting in. The fear was getting to him once again, making his upper body quiver in sudden terror. Why on Earth was he trying to get answers from this guy in the first place? He wouldn't tell him anything … and he knew that.

Wincing, 2D guessed that the sun was directly overtop of the boat the two were on, because a wave of heat seared through his frail form and seeped into his pale skin, causing him to wriggle around in maximum discomfort. Tiny beads of perspiration ran down his glistening face. He shifted into another position in the crate, now desperate to find contentment by any means necessary.

Waiting for Sun Moon Stars to reply, 2D ran his tired hands across the walls of the box that trapped him, digging his fingernails in the thin crack in the middle that allowed a sliver of sunlight to bleed through, giving Stuart his only source of light. _"Hmm. This isn't a box then, issit? More like a … crate fingy."_ He placed his hands on the top of the box, now able to physically feel the immense heat that begged to get inside the crate. It burned, even to Stuart's gentle touch. His hand recoiled in pain, and he let out a small yelp.

Aggravated now, 2D scowled in annoyance with the strange man, who had yet to answer his question, and kicked at the top of the crate much more forcefully than he expected. Despite the burning contact between the top of the barrier and the keyboardist's hands, he pushed vehemently against it, putting as much pressure on it as he possibly could, regardless of his aching muscles. "I _said_, where the _HELL _are you _takin'_ me?" he screamed, pleading for an immediate answer.

But the poised kidnapper only laughed again in response to the boy's incensed question, "Wish I could tell ya, kid. But then I'd be goin' against strict orders."

Hearing this, 2D paused in mid-kick, the wheels in his head beginning to slowly turn. '_Wot? So dis bloke's workin' for somebody else?' _He straightened himself out, being ever-so carful not to let any bare skin come in contact with the top of the crate. 2D was about to rejoinder, but he was cut off by Sun Moon Stars.

"Look. I'm really not s'posed at be talkin' to ya, man. Jus' sit in there an' keep quiet!"

"But -"

"Listen! I'm already gonna get paid less for _not_ bein' able to knock you out long enough. I can't tell you anything, so stop askin' stupid questions. Jus' keep yo damn mouf _shut _and lemmie do mah job. We'll … be there soon."

At the suddenly shielding remark from his angry captor, 2D drew back and put an end to his little kicking tirade inside the tiny crate with a childish, routed pout. He took a long, profound breath and exhaled raucously, trying with all the capacity he had left to remain calm and composed. The singer found a more comfortable position; he now laid on his side and held his throbbing head in his hands, with his gawky legs folded and brought as close to his chin as possible. He considered taking the valuable time to at least try and recover his thoughts of the recent events, but he knew that thinking too much would only add to his spiteful migraine. '_Meh. F'only I had me pills wif me … maybe den I'd be able ta at least fink straight …'_

Outside, 2D heard the loud crashes of waves spattering up against the boat. They were getting rougher ...

Suddenly, Sun Moon Stars took a quick, sharp turn to the right, tossing the forlorn keyboardist around aggressively. 2D yelped in agony as his already compressed arms and legs were twisted in even more uncomfortable positions, and whined as his face connected with the top of the burning hot surface, which was his only blockade from the boiling temperatures that solicited for access. With every brusque turn and abrupt stride his captor made, 2D was thrown in a different spot in the box, which was also being thrown around the rocking boat, bruising his milky white skin in the process.

The last thing the singer wanted was to be suddenly lobbed off the boat as it continued spiraling in rapid directions. He tried to keep himself still as best he could, but nothing could stop him as he and the crate tumbled every which way, his head pounding and throbbing with each unforgiving hit it took.

In the midst of all the commotion, 2D was just able to make out the deafening sounds of bullets flying overhead. As if on instinct, he flailed his skinny arms across his face, dreading any impulsive blows or unexpected triggers, while ignoring the sting of the burning box's façades.

This went on for several minutes; 2D relentlessly tossed and turned in his box, trying to steer clear of the raging bullets as they practically skimmed the crate, all the while screaming as loud as his vocals would allow.

Then, as quickly as they had arrived, the shots subsided and the boat stopped in its tracks above the wild torrents. Then it began to sail along again, like it had been before the random shooting; as if nothing had even happened.

Inside the box, which was now covered in black scuff marks and multiple dents and scratches, Stuart clenched at his heart as it hammered at his chest beneath his clothes. His breath escaped his lips in short, brisk pants. He knitted his brows and called out for his captor, half wondering if he had been at all injured.

"Wot … _WOT THE HELL WOS ALL THA' ABOUT?"_

Sun Moon Stars let out a short grunt and sighed in frustration. "Sorry 'bout dat, kid. Damn pirates were shootin' at us again."

2D scoffed. '_Pirates? We wos bein' chased by a buncha bloody PIRATES!'_

His heart still briskly pumping from the panic, the singer released his firm grip from his t-shirt and used his free hand to wipe his forehead, as he felt more drops of perspiration run down from beneath his cap. He fidgeted around a moment before dropping his arm back into it's place beside his trembling body. _'Dis is ridiculous ...'_

Just then, 2D felt the boat take yet another sharp turn, once again sending both the crate and the dilapidated youth sliding across the deck. He winced when the side of the box hit the wall of the ship. _Hard._

"Oi, man! Wot gives?" 2D hollered, his eyes shut tight from the pain. He was rubbing his aching shoulder where it had abruptly met with the wall.

"Sorry," Sun Moon Stars replied, "but we're here."

Not knowing what to make of that, the keyboardist's hollow dents shot open wide in a concoction of confusion, tension, and pure terror. He stayed still, while all the forbidding possibilities of what could probably happen to him floated around fluently in his decrepit head, which was aching even more so now. Oh, how he yearned for his precious medication … He brought a shivering, sweaty hand up and ran it slowly down his face as anxiety suddenly set in. As he inhaled deeply, trying to remain on the edge, the smell of salty seawater took over his senses again, making Stu-Pot quake in repugnance. He took another whiff of the corrosive air, as he was a bit curious, and noticed right away that the scent of fervent plastic was stronger. Much, _**much**_ stronger.

'_Where … am I?'_

For a moment, nothing happened. But the troubled singer didn't dare to make a move.

Then, the gruff sound of footsteps were heard, and they were carefully edging adjacent to the petrified bluenette, still entrapped in the battered box. And with every 'click' and 'clack' of his captor's heeled boots, 2D's fear grew to an enormous peak. He whimpered.

There was a small, vain kick that came from the side of the crate, and suddenly, 2D shrieked as he felt himself being lifted off the floor of the boat with ease, bobbing up and down in the crate in time with his kidnapper's quick, fleet strides.

All that was running through poor Stu's head was, '_Don't drop me. Don't drop me. Please. Don't. Drop. Me.'_

2D let out a excruciating yelp when he was not dropped, but _thrown_ onto the ground, landing right on his bum.

"_**Ouch!**_"

Now released from Sun Moon Star's fixed grasp, the dented vocalist remained contorted in an inelegantly new position, with his arms and legs, once again, crooked and twisted in discomfited pain. His head persistently throbbed and ached for medication, and 2D felt inept as he let his eyelids slowly close gently, eventually letting the pain set in. His lips were parted slightly, his breath leaving in hasty gasps and small, unheard whimpers.

The overshadowing reek of burning, rotting, saturated synthetic scrap and rubbish completely devoured the crate and its contents. It leached through the little cracks on the sides, making 2D gag in immediate disgust. The fact that the undesirable smell had mixed with the seawater did not make the keyboardist feel any less uncomfortable.

As 2D wriggled around in his barred enclosure, he heard something faint coming from the outside. Carefully, and ever-so slowly, he placed his ear on the side of the box to try and decipher the sudden noise. It wasn't those seagulls … Stuart was sure of that …

... He heard voices.

One of them he recognized as Sun Moon Stars'. That profound, melodic voice he remembered almost instantaneously. The man seemed just a tad goaded, but 2D quickly guessed that that was probably due to the haphazard pirate shoot-out they had both endured only a few moments before. 2D shuddered at the appalling thought, then pressed his ear harder against the box, wanting to hear what was going on in the outside world, where he was craving to be. The voices were slightly muffled, but he was just able to make out what was being said …

" … he's still in 'are, boss … " Sun Moon Stars began, "But 'e woke up, an' he's a lil' freaked out, but … I think he's gonna be okay."

2D shivered a little, a ripple of distress draining his face of color; he could feel it. He did _not _like being talked about like this, being used as an object of conversation between two sinister kidnappers, who were most likely insane serial killers, or something of the sort. 2D's mind swam with distraught notions and possibilities of what was going to happen to him, and whether he was going to end up surviving …

Not wanting to lose his focus, Stuart shook his head fiercely and drew his attention back to the discussion. There was somebody else talking now …

" … Oh, lovely … yeah … good job, mate. Good job …"

Dazed, 2D withdrew his touch to the crate and tried to interpret what was going on. His blood ran ice cold, sending frisson down his disheveled spine. His jaw hung open wide in pure disbelief, and he let a minute cry of panic escape his trembling lips. His body started quaking uncontrollably, though the singer barely noticed.

That _**voice**__ …_

2D blinked in skepticism and narrowed his eyes. '_No … No, it can't be …'_

As diluted tears welled up all too summarily in the corners of Stuart's hollow, onyx dents, he struggled to withhold a cry and let out a stifled whine instead. He tried to see what was going on through the cracks in side of the box, but he could see nothing more than a slim, slender sliver of sunlight as it trickled inside. If viable, the singer moved even closer to the edge of the crate's barrio, now craving to hear more …

"I knew I could count on ya, Sun Moon Stars. Erm … did yeh run into any trouble on the way here?"

'_Oh, god … no. No, it … it can't be him!'_

Sun Moon Stars mumbled something incomprehensible and grumbled. "Uhh … well …" he paused a moment, "… we ran inta those goddamned _pirates_ again." His words came out a bit bluntly, which made the singer's stomach churn uneasily at the remembrance of the arbitrary bombardment of bullets soaring just overhead …

His tear ducts bursting suddenly, 2D blinked once more and felt an informal wetness make its way unhurriedly down his cheek, trickling along his face and stopping at his chin. A small drop of the saltwater fell from his jaw and landed on his arm. He made no noise; no cries, no whimpers, nothing. He remained absolutely silent as he listened to his captors speak.

The other man coughed vehemently, jolting the singer back to actuality. It was an obvious smoker's cough. 2D shivered, biting his lip in wariness. The azure haired youth was clearly an active smoker himself (hell, he smoked at least a few packs a day), but he had never really hacked like _that._ Smoker's coughs never really bothered him, even though he was such a severe smoker. But there was something so terribly, _ominously_ familiar about the way that man talked and … coughed. Something in _that voice_ that nearly brought 2D over the edge. It made him feel like breaking down. It made him want to _cry_; even more so than he was now_._

Swallowing his angst, 2D emitted a heavy sigh as thoughts of cigarettes (which he had been longing awfully for, since he had been hours without one) and a very sadistic bassist gradually made their way into his head.

The coughing ceased, and the man's composure seemed to be renewed. He continued the conversation with a low growl.

"Ah. I see. Well … wot 'appened, then?"

Not wanting be believe his maddening inner voices as they screamed out the name of the bloke, 2D's heart jumped in his chest and a sizeable lump grew in his throat.

"They shot at us," Sun Moon Stars replied, chuckling a little, "which scared the _fuck_ outta the little cracker over there." 2D sneered and predicted that Sun Moon Stars was most likely gesturing in his direction.

The other man didn't laugh, though.

"They shot at you, ay? Scumbags. Wot'd ya do?"

"Not much, really. We lost 'em to tha fog."

"Good, good. And uhh … nothing was … _damaged_, correct?" the man implored, and Stuart quickly noticed the change in his tone of voice. It was more serious, and the keyboardist wondered if he was really referring to him …

"No, sir. Everything's fine. 'e didn't get hurt or nuthin'."

The air seemed to be lifted tenfold, and both men chuckled a bit this time. But 2D saw absolutely nothing humorous about being kidnapped, shot at and practically killed by _pirates_, and dragged to … wherever Sun Moon Stars had dragged him …

"Well, 'at's _great_, mate! Ay, listen, yeh? Thanks fer bringin' 'im 'ere fer me."

"Not a problem, boss."

The other man coughed some more, yet this time a bit less violently, and cleared his raspy throat with ease. "Yes well, 'ere's yer pay then, mate."

Again, a slight pause, and 2D figured that there was probably some money being exchanged and placed into Sun Moon Stars' grasp before the bloke spoke again, sounding harsher and more forceful. "Now ehh, you may return to yer former post at tha pier."

2D remained somewhat composed, or something relatively close to that, with being in such a dreadful condition and all … He waited patiently, eagerly, even, for any reply from Sun Moon Stars or another imposing remark from the other man. The broken, ingenuous youth waited more than just a few seconds for something, anything to be said between the two, but nothing was breaking the stagnant air, which was slowly beginning to suffocate 2D as his fears continued to increase.

To be honest, 2D really didn't want to think too hard about this other bloke, especially since he was almost _positive _he knew who it was … he didn't want to believe it … and it scared him shitless to even _consider_ the consequences of suddenly speaking up.

All poor Stuart could hear was the calling gulls, the rhythmic waves … and now, gentle marine breezes - the kind that could only be heard near a body of seawater …

… and then, the 'click' and 'clack' of healed boots could be heard again, at first sounding nearly silent. And 2D was fully aware that it wasn't Sun Moon Stars who was creeping up to him, steadily, and very slowly.

2D knew all too well the sounds Cuban Heels made, and his heart got caught in his throat when he recalled knowing of only _one_ bloke who wore Cuban Heeled boots …

'_No! No, no, no! It can' be him! I won't believe it!'_

He wanted to cry. He wanted to _bawl_, actually. He wanted the lump in his gullet to stop growing, he wanted his migraine that throbbed at his head to stop its incessancy, and he wanted a smoke even more. He knew that at any moment, he _would_ end up losing his sanity. And as another silent tear rolled down his flushed cheek, tracing the previous trail, 2D let go and allowed the atrocious voices in his head to freely shout out the name of his captor, who was gently walking closer, closer, _closer_ …

The Cuban Heels grew louder in sound, their 'clicks' and 'clacks' racking at 2D skull and making his mentality swim in apprehension. He was once again growing uncomfortable in the crate, because his right arm was smashed between his ribcage and the side of the barrier. He was tempted to move, but found that he couldn't. He wanted to, but his terror was immobilizing him; paralyzing him to the point where the only movements that were made came from his chest, as his short, quick breaths caused it to expand and contract.

And then the 'clicks' and 'clacks' stopped, and 2D looked up innocently, as if he could sense someone, or something, looming overtop of the box. Time seemed to stop, and 2D froze completely; his breathing ceased, his blinking subsided, his heart slowed.

And then, the silence was broken, and a gruff, throaty voice was heard …

" … Well, well, _well_ … Wot rubbish 'as washed upon the shores of my beach today?"

2D gasped quietly to himself when a small kick to the side shook the crate. This man was _so close .._. and his voice was more distinct, clearer. 2D could now easily decipher the owner of that voice. There was no use trying to deny it. The way it was dragged out on the ends. The coarseness of the man's tone, the way it made tremors dance down 2D's spine and rush up into his damaged head, making his vision spin and blur. Oh, he knew that voice, alright …_He missed that voice …_

2D wanted to speak, _so badly_, but he was too stunned to let anything escape his lips.

He suddenly felt himself being lifted from the ground again. The man raised him with ease, as if he weighed nothing at all, and the change of angle tossed 2D to the right, crushing his arm even more. 2D was terrified and let out a small whimper in pain. He was breathing erratically now, his chest heaving aggressively. He was held in the air momentarily, and he was pleading with his mind for the man to have enough heart not to throw him like Sun Moon Stars had.

_But then he remembered who was holding him._

2D tried to steady himself, clutching the inside of the crate with both hands as if it was going to fall apart beneath him. A moment of silence passed, and he remained hovering in the air.

2D's face was almost completely pressed against the right side of the box, and his deep-set eyes were half-lidded as he grew awkwardly accustomed to the feeling of being so insubstantial. His nose was just able to brush up against the box's smooth surface …

… and directly on the other side, the flustered singer heard a soft chuckle.

"Hmm! I wonder wot's in _here_ then?" the man grunted, sounding rather amused with himself. He was so, _so_ close … and the fact that there was only one thin barrier separating them, preventing them from seeing one another … preventing the vocalist from finding out who was restraining him … it made sparks course through his body.

The man chuckled again, louder, and shook the box roughly, sending 2D in a fit of petrified cries for mercy. His soft chuckles quickly turned into maniacal, sadistic cackles and howls of delight.

The man found _delight_ in the singer's _pain_.

The voices in 2D's head were practically _screaming_ now, yelling the name of the man. Through his hushed, stifled pleas for freedom, 2D tried hard to pay no heed to the voices, but they wouldn't tolerate his ignorance. They yelled louder now, deafening him. _**'You know 'zactly who dis man is, you moron! Why are you tryin' so 'ard to deny it?'**_

2D shut his eyes asa third tear ran down his cheek, the hot liquid stinging his sweaty, crimson face.

The shaking stopped now, as did the laughter. Through painful, inconsistent breaths, 2D mustered just enough energy to allow lexis to flee his trembling lips, barely even a whisper …

" … _Muh- … M-Muh … doc … _"

After mere seconds of stillness, the box was lifted a bit, as if it were being adjusted to meet the height of his captor's face. Shaking, 2D splayed his palm over the side of the box. Then, cautiously, he cocked his gently to the side, ignoring the searing pains that rushed down his spine, and pressed his ear against the box as well, as if he were imploring to hear the man's voice again … He leaned in closer when he heard muffled breaths coming from the other side.

"Wot wos that?" the man asked Stu in a falsely playful tone, giggling slightly, "Yer gonna 'afta speak up a bit, mate."

2D bit his lip as he composed himself and took a deep, quaking breath, gathering what little strength he had left to speak.

"_M-Muh-uhh … Muhdoc … Muhdoc …"_

Suddenly, the singer was unexpectedly hurled to the ground again, this time landing on his head rather than his bum. He let out a bloodcurdling screech as his head started to throb and bruise from the callous impact. _'Oui … as if my 'ead 'asn't taken enough damage awready?'_ His eyes were shut tight in pain as his migraine grew in size, and he was holding his skull tightly, wishing with every fiber in his body that his captor would release him from the crate. His entire body was just _aching_ at this point …

2D was so lost in the sweltering pain that pounded at his skull that he hadn't even noticed the crate as it shifted a bit. But when he heard clicks and snaps coming from the bottom of the box, as if something was being unlocked, his head jerked up in surprise.

Without another thought emerging into Stuart's dented cranium, he positioned himself; his back was flat against the bottom of the box, with his arms at his sides, supporting his weight. His slender legs were bent upwards, and due to the immense lack of space, his knees brushed up against his nose.

Whimpering, 2D pushed hard against the top of the box with both feet. He tapered his eyes and grit his teeth, knowing that in his sorry condition, opening the box would be a more difficult challenge then he'd hoped.

The keyboardist failed at his first attempt to free himself, and he allowed his muscles to contract and relax for a second before he started up again. His breaths were broken and hoarse, and his face was coated in sweat and it was making him feel tremendously uncomfortable, especially since there was a limited amount of air that made it through the thin cracks in the crate. His whole body felt overheated, and it was driving him insane.

'_Hav ta … get out …'_

Cringing, 2D collected newfound potency and positioned himself once more. While supporting himself with his elbows, which were chafing due to the friction between his sensitive skin and the crate, he exhaled profoundly and arched his back outwards a bit, giving his legs the room they needed to push on the roof of the box.

He pushed much harder this time, with adrenaline surging through his veins. His legs were quickly beginning to cramp up, and 2D let out a perturbed squeal at the unwelcome feeling. He desperately shoved the sensation to the depths of his mind, as he was starting to see more light shine through the cracks that ran through the sides of the package. The bluenette grunted, forcing all his remaining energy into one final push, just as he felt his legs start to wobble and give way.

"_**Nn-nnugh!"**_

The roof of the crate ceded, and was tossed to the side on its hinges.

When the initial gust of outside air hit his face, everything seemed to slow down all at once. In that one moment of peace and sovereignty, all 2D could see was light. Blinding light and _sweltering_ heat. On instinct, 2D raised an arm and shielded his eyes as they began to tear up uncontrollably. It still hurt a little to move his tender limbs, but the loss of the box's restrictions made 2D sigh in relief.

Tears made their way down the singer's face, and they stung, but he was so reassured with himself that he made no move to wipe them away. He thought his eyes had surely adjusted to the sunlight, but as soon as he removed his arm from his face, more salty tears pooled in the corners of his dents and he had to blink several times to stop the flow. He was still sitting inside the crate, and 2D blindly groped the enclosure that had been confining his only seconds before, and quickly realized that it wasn't a box, and it wasn't a crate, or a package. It was a suitcase. A really _small_ suitcase.

The vocalist glowered. _'Wot the 'ell? Wos Sun Moon Stars really dat lazy dat 'e jus' frew me inna damned suitcase?'_

2D was gazing up at the sky, but since the sun was still shining brightly before him, a dazzling white, his arm was above his face, still covering his stinging eyes. Without warning, more tears pooled in his eyes blurred his vision completely. He whimpered, and had to shut his dents tightly to relieve the burning. Even with his eyes closed, tears continued to stream down his glowing face, picking up where previous trails had left off. In the midst of all his lurid terror and confusion, 2D swore he heard someone mumbling something indistinct …

Disregarding his headache that struck at his temples, 2D ferociously rubbed his eyes and let them slowly tremble open.

The singer looked up and saw a shadowy figure looming overtop him. Shaking his head, he blinked several times and fixed his eyes on the stature again with a pained, yet animated expression. The figure edged closer, and looked almost angelic; what with the sunlight enveloping it, giving it a glowing appeal.

It suddenly reached down and grabbed 2D, who emitted a startled yelp, and yanked him up by the scruff of his neck before he could give a reaction. 2D was now face-toface with his captor, and took no time in taking in his kidnapper's features and countenances.

The keyboardist's hollow dents locked with eyes of raven black and blood red, which were defined by heavy dark circles of fatigue and angst. His captor's skin was a sickly olive green, with a hint of sunburn showing on his cheeks. His captor smiled when he saw 2D gasp innocently in recognition, showing his toothy, shark-like smile, and let his elongated tongue loll from his mouth. 2D noticed that his captor reeked of rum and fags. A flicker of reminiscence sparked in 2D's mind, wavering a moment, but was soon forgotten as his captor shook him aggressively, still gripping him by his skinny little neck, and brought him nearer so that their noses were just barely touching.

2D's breath slowed. Part of him wanted to embrace the older man, but another part of him wanted to kick him and curse at him and yell at him for paying someone to stuff him in a fucking suitcase. He parted his lips slightly, eyelids drooping.

" … _Muhdoc … Muds … "_

A gentle chuckled escaped the older man's lips and he grinned even wider now, digging his long fingernails into the vocalist's neck, watching the blue-haired youth as he writhed and shuddered painfully in his grasp.

"_Mmmmm … _long time no see, ehh Stuey?"

2D wriggled in the man's clutches, which only resulted in a tightening grip on his neck. Not enough to choke him, of course. Just enough for him to feel the need to resist. The older man watched and giggled as the insensate, half-conscious bluenette let streams of barely audible whimpers of torture and he let his nails break the singer's delicate flesh.

"Muh …d-doc … _please_ … "

"Don' struggle. You'll only make it worse fer yerself."

While 2D thrashed about in failed endeavors to free himself, the dark-haired man beamed, with his eyes wide open in enjoyment, and brought his lips down to Stuart's ear; the boy shivered when his captor's hot breaths brushed up against the side of his face.

"_We've been waitn' fer you, Stuart …"_

2D's hair stood on end as shivers ran down his spine. His captor's voice was so low, so sadistic, so _demonic … _He knew this voice. He knew this voice better than anyone. Murdoc Niccals had a voice that made 2D's blood run ice cold. It made his entire body tremble in unadulterated fright.

Murdoc brought his face back up to meet Stuart's, and he quickly noticed the youth's confused, yet relieved look. The boy was making a series of small whimpering noises and Murdoc stared at him attentively, taking in his weak-minded bandmate's horror and panic with enthusiasm. Struggling in the older man's firm grasp, 2D fixed his eyes with Murdoc's and bit his lip timidly.

"Muhdoc … ahh … uhnn … _w-where are we?_"

The bassist scoffed and released his unyielding grip on Stuart's neck, only to replace it with his long arm as he gracefully draped it over 2D's shoulders. 2D let out a surprised yelp, but sighed quietly in relief as the pain in his neck was mitigated.

With great fervor, Murdoc turned on his six-inch Cuban heels, bring the frightened singer with him, and faced a massive, bulky heap of what looked like pink plastic. As 2D gawked at the enormous structure in awe, the Satanist did the same, and gazed at his own creation with an expression of sheer delight.

Murdoc chuckled when he saw how astounded his daft singer was, and he slowly leaned in closer, bringing his face to the quivering boy's ear again, tugging on his neck with the crook of his arm.

"_Why, we're home, Stuart …"_ the bassist whispered eerily, watching with contentment as the bluenette's face contorted in bewilderment and distress.

'_No. No … Did 'e really bring me to his … his __**beach**__? His sodding private island?' _2D shook in fright, wriggling around under Murdoc's arm, still wrapped around his frail upper body. '_Oh … wot'd 'e call it? Point Nemo? Plastic …' _

"_Plastic Beach … "_ 2D murmured, as if coming to a shocking realization. He stared at the heap of plastic, taking in its looks, smells, and sounds in uncomfortable admiration. The edifice was gigantic; he'd never seen anything quite like it before. He couldn't see the very top of it. But the entire structure itself was made entirely of garbage and various pieces of rubbish.

The azure-haired man didn't get a very good chance to take in the sights that encased him, because before he could even muster the courage to speak up again through his wonderment, he was suddenly grabbed at the forearm by the bass player and dragged quickly towards the construction.

"Common, dent'ead. You and I … 'ave a _lot_ of catching up ta do."

**Author's Comments: Alright, then! Chapter One is up [FINALLY]! Thanks for the great reviews so far, guys. ^_^**

**I know I might have made a few spelling/grammar mistakes in this, so ... sorry if you come across any misspelled words or something of that nature ... T^T;;;**

**Also, I know that in some points in the story, I refer to 2D as a 'youth'. He's about thirty in this story, and I honestly don't think thirty is that old. So, yeah. Sorry if I confused anyone with that title.**


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Comments: Hooray for Chapter Two! I'm sorry, I take way too long writing these chapters ... ^o^;;**

_" Oh brother I cant, I can't get through.  
I've been trying hard to reach you 'cause I don't know what to do.  
Oh brother, I can't believe it's true.  
I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you.  
Oh, I wanna talk to you."_

_~Coldplay - 'Talk'_

As 2D was hauled mercilessly through the pink sand and various pieces of sodden, repugnant garbage, he thrashed about in many unsuccessful attempts to free himself, if only for a moment so he would be able to process what was happening. His vision was still blurry and his eyes were still sensitive to the sunlight, so his efforts to grab at his Satanic captor were terribly vain. He then tried steadying himself, so maybe he could at least get his balance, but Murdoc was walking too fast and he couldn't stop quickly enough. On top of that, he was still dreadfully weak and sore from being in that damned suitcase for so long, so his movements were fairly limited.

"Nnugh! M-Muh_doc_! Leggo! Common, mate! Let me _go_!" 2D shouted, still mustering all the energy he could just to keep up with Murdoc's pace. Murdoc made no endeavor to turn around, or answer his front man for that matter; he was too busy kicking around larger bits of plastic rubbish to make a path. 2D grunted in apathy and blindly reached for Murdoc again, this time grabbing onto the arm that was lugging him towards the massive structure. 2D tried to pry Murdoc's fingers apart, but the bassist growled and only tightened his grip on 2D's scrawny arm, earning a pained whimper in reply as his elongated nails dug into 2D's pale skin.

"If you know wot's good fer you, you won't do tha' a _second_time, face-ache." Murdoc warned, irritation manifest in his gruff voice.

Feeling his arm start to chafe, 2D whined and compliantly let go of his bandmate. He squinted as his eyes welled up when he accidentally glanced at the sun, and he feebly shielded his face with his free arm. _'Christ, Muhdoc! How much farther do we 'ave ta go before we reach dis stupid bloody beach house of yours?'_

Suddenly, the blinding sunlight disappeared just as 2D's tear ducts began to give way yet again. Confused, the keyboardist blinked the few tears away and wiped his face, which stung slightly to the touch. He had to blink multiple times before his vision cleared, and Murdoc finally stopped and turned to face his bandmate, still holding onto his arm securely. Stuart rubbed his eyes meekly, in a rather childish way, before looking directly and keenly at Murdoc for the first time. Mismatched eyes of blood red and sinister black bored into his own dents with a guise of what the pianist perceived as familiarity. At that moment, all signs and thoughts of struggle or pain vanished from 2D's being and he found himself wanting nothing more than to hug Murdoc right then and there. He felt himself shiver violently under Murdoc's intense glare, and his hands started to shake involuntarily.

Murdoc took immediate notice of 2D's evident submissive behavior and took a few small, brisk steps forward, careful not to take his eyes off of 2D, who was becoming weaker and weaker as he came closer. Stuart's abrupt passivity showed a great deal, as he made no effort to hide his instinctive vulnerability towards the older man. Murdoc chuckled when he remembered how delicate and pitiful his singer actually was, _especially _around the bassist himself. He continued his advances and grinned. His eyes weren't narrowed in anger or frustration, as they usually were; rather, they were wide in what seemed like informality and admiration. 2D, though a little confused with the bassist's sudden change in attitude, made no move to resist, thinking that Murdoc was moving closer to embrace him, seeing as they hadn't seen each other for nearly three years, and didn't even bother to consider if he was really just fooling around, or what the consequences of succumbing himself to the bass player could actually amount to.

If Murdoc hadn't been holding onto Stuart's arm so firmly, the younger man would have surely collapsed under weak limbs. The sides of his head started buzzing, and bottled emotions were rushing through his bloodstream and wracked at his brain ruthlessly, bringing up unanswered questions, reminding the boy of just how long it had been since he and Murdoc had seen the likes of one another. He shivered again. _'Much, much too long … '_

It was rather difficult for Stuart to administer the situation. 2D was in the presence of _Murdoc Niccals_, someone who he had never thought he'd see again. _Ever_.

It was too much for the young man to handle in the minutes he had been in the bassist's company. One moment he was in his flat, depressed and utterly alone, and the next moment, he was suddenly standing before his best mate, who he'd assumed had forgotten about him the second they'd went their separate ways at the final Apollo show. Never had he imagined that Murdoc would go to such lengths as to _kidnap_ him to bring the band back together. He didn't quite know what to make of any of it. 2D sensed a customary lump form in his throat, and suddenly felt himself becoming weaker and slightly faint.

Murdoc chuckled at the sight of his singer breaking down underneath him, his bicolor eyes taking the sight in with hunger. _'Mmm … I fergot 'ow delightful it feels ta see the dullard like this … he's so fuckin' pitiful …'_

2D continued to shake as he waited for Murdoc to make a move. But he just stood there, still clutching the younger man's arm dominantly, watching as the boy trembled and shook beneath him. Murdoc's grin grew wider even, as he took in the pianist's anxiety with great satisfaction and squeezed his captive's arm tighter still until another painful whimper fled the singer's trembling lips.

Stuart, finally fed up with the growing tension, cautiously raised his free arm and reached out to the other, only to have Murdoc grab onto that arm as well. 2D's knees buckled obediently and he allowed himself to fall completely acquiescent underneath his bandmate. The bluenette had no idea what caused him to become so submissive towards the older man, but it was a familiar feeling of conformity and he shivered as it washed over him.

Though Murdoc found great pleasure in seeing the singer squirm and shudder as he was, a feeling that entertained the bassist to the fullest extent, something clicked inside him and he remembered that there was still much to be done regarding his front man; he couldn't waste time by toying with Stuart's emotions, no matter how much it pleased him to watch the man surrender so easily towards his actions. He tautened his grip on the boy's arms and yanked him forward with a smirk, releasing a small cry from 2D in the process. Then, he turned on his heals so that 2D was in front of him, and put the bluenette's arms around his back to keep him from struggling, careful not to loosen the grasp on his hands. Not that that would be a problem, since the entire ordeal had put 2D in somewhat of a daze. With a slight push, he gestured for the singer to walk forward, until the two came to what looked like an elevator door. Since Murdoc's hands were of no use at the moment, as they were holding onto the singer's wrists, the Satanist raised his leg and used one of his six-inch Cuban heals to hit the 'up' button next to the door.

Something inside the colossal pink structure made a loud cracking noise and a low humming sound pursued. 2D was silent and a blank expression was plastered on his face. He was still shaking a bit and was beyond confused with the other man's bipolar acts. He was so lost that he hadn't even noticed the door slide open before them until a brusque kick on his lower back caused him to stumble inelegantly into the lift as his wrists were released.

2D hit the back wall of the machine and he grunted as his shoulders came in contact with it. He looked towards Murdoc, who strolled casually inside as his boots made those loud 'clicks' and 'clacks' on the hard metal, making 2D shiver again. Murdoc walked over to where 2D was standing, not making any eye contact whatsoever, and turned to face the control panel beside them. There were several buttons on the panel, and next to each one was the name of the room it leaded to. Murdoc pressed the one which was titled 'Study Room' and then nonchalantly walked to the other side of the lift, so that he was directly across from his keyboardist. The single light bulb that lit up the entire lift flickered a moment before that loud cracking noise started up again and the lift began to move.

2D never took his eyes off the bassist, watching him as he stared at the floor, arms crossed. Murdoc could feel 2D's stare and he raised his head and looked at the boy with a deadly glare that gave Stuart goosebumps. 2D suddenly felt his face get hot when his eyes locked with the bass player's, and he was thankful that the dim light was able to hide his furious blushing. _'I can' believe I gave in ta Murdoc's tactics so easily …'_

Murdoc noticed the singer's uneasiness. He lightened his gaze and cocked his head to the side, amused. "Something the _matta'_,dullard?"

The older man's gruff voice brought 2D back into reality and his head shot up. "N-no, no. Nuffin's wrong …" he stuttered, glancing to the side so that he wouldn't have to look at Murdoc directly, for he was still blushing madly in embarrassment. "Umm … where're we goin'?" he asked, his voice quivering more than he'd hoped it would.

"This lift takes us inside the building, you bloody twit. 'ow else do ya think we get all the way up there?" Murdoc retorted, pointing up towards the direction of the massive structure.

"Oh. But … don' you 'ave a front door or sumfingk?"

Murdoc sighed in irritation. "Well of _course_ I do. But unless you want to have a meaningless conversation with an emotionally distressed seagull an' a daft pelican who eats every damn thing in sight at the entrance, we're takin' the lift right inside."

2D squinted his eyes in bewilderment, not understanding a thing Murdoc said. "Oh. Uh … alwright then."

"Moron."

Before 2D could give a remark, the light flickered on and off again and the lift slowed, producing an ear-splitting screech before coming gently to a stop. With a small 'ding', the doors slid open and without hesitation, Murdoc grabbed the singer's shoulders and pushed him out of the elevator and into the room which the bassist claimed as his study.

"Oi, mate. Take a seat on that couch, yeh?" Murdoc quickly said, not wanting to waste any time as he gestured to a tattered grey couch that had evidently seen better days.

Though 2D was still feeling slightly timid with his current surroundings, he did as he was told and dropped onto the battered couch, relishing the comfort it gave to his sore body as he sunk deeper into the cushions. He paid no attention to the bassist; instead, his eyes panned the entire room, which, to 2D's surprise, had quite a _classy _touch to it, disregarding the matted sofa. There were several large bookshelves that lined the walls, all stacked completely with books and old records and bottles of what looked like very expensive alcoholic drinks. Next to a large desk was an enormous globe that stood on wheels on the floor, and with closer examination, 2D saw that there were many spots on the globe that were crossed off or circled.

2D looked to his right and saw a tall white staircase which was twisted around a huge pillar. It was missing a few steps, so it looked dangerous, and 2D hoped that they wouldn't be going up there any time soon.

Meanwhile, Murdoc was bent over at his desk, rummaging through his belongings only to pick up a twelve-pack of what 2D quickly assumed was rum. Murdoc took one for himself, then took out another one and looked over at his front man before offering it to him. Stuart wasn't a huge fan of alcoholic beverages, especially the ones Murdoc drank, so he just shook his head in response. The Satanist shrugged. "Your loss."

So, with a full bottle of rum in hand, Murdoc strode over to the couch and took a seat next to his singer, taking a swig of his drink before sighing and glancing at his bandmate. He smirked when he saw how tense the blue-haired keyboardist still was; he was biting his lip and was tapping his feet to drown out his discomfort.

An awkward moment of silence passed and the two men sat mutely on the worn-out sofa. Really, it was more awkward for 2D, since he was empty-handed and he felt very much out of place in the strange building which belonged to a bandmate he hadn't seen in ages. Stuart swallowed his apprehension and mentally kicked himself for being so tentative in the presence of the bassist, whom he'd previously lived with for more than ten years. He looked cautiously at his friend, who happily took another sip from his drink. 2D stopped his foot-tapping and took a long, deep breath.

"So, M-Muds, uhh … wot's … wot's all this about' makin' a new album?"

A few more seconds of eerie silence passed by, and Murdoc downed what was left in the green bottle before chucking it out an open window. There was a small noise of breaking glass, followed by the squawking of what sounded like a very angry seagull. Murdoc paid no mind to it and turned completely so that he was face-to-face with his pianist.

"Right. So, I wos thinkin', mate. You know our last album, yeh? _Demon Days_?"

2D shivered. Even the thought of Gorillaz' last album brought back too many memories, ones that were now unnecessary, considering that Kong was no more. Anything that reminded the younger man of his previous home just gave him chills and unwanted reminiscences. Hazy thoughts of times in the Kong recording studio flashed through his mind, and a minute spark of sudden despair dashed down his spine. "Y-yeah … _Demon Days_. Why? Wot about it?"

A glint of enthrallment glistened in Murdoc's mismatched eyes and he smiled broadly, showing off his piranha-like teeth. "Well, I wos _thinkin'_, and I realized that … _Demon Days … _it wos just … rubbish. Total _rubbish_."

The singer's vacant dents enlarged in absolute astonishment and disbelief. 2D didn't think he had heard the bassist correct, he thought he must have heard him wrong, but when he asked the Satanist to repeat himself, the same words escaped his lips. "It. Wos. _Rubbish_."

2D couldn't fathom what Murdoc was saying. He simply couldn't grasp the fact that _Murdoc Niccals_ thought that _Demon Days_, a brilliant album, his own work of art, was _rubbish_.

"Do you even know wot you're _sayin'_, Muds? _How can you say that?_" 2D cried, the utter perplexity and shock obvious in his tone.

"I know exactly wot I'm sayin', face-ache," Murdoc retorted casually, the smile suddenly gone, and his eyes narrowed in all seriousness, "I mean, _Demon Days _is a fine album an' all, an' I thought it wos bloody _perfect_ when it was first released … but … when I listen to it today, I realize that … there's just _so much _that could've been improved about it." In his mind, Murdoc wanted to mention how he also thought there was too much of Noodle in the album and in the videos, but he knew that if he spoke of the other band members, 2D would immediately start asking all sorts of questions concerning their whereabouts, which were rather unpleasant for Murdoc to talk about, for obvious reasons. He'd be sure to steer clear of that minefield until the very end.

"You fink so?" 2D asked, now becoming a little uncertain himself. If Murdoc was saying a Gorillaz album needed work, then they _must've_ done something wrong.

"Oh yeah, man. In my eyes, we could 'ave done much, much betta wit that album."

"Oh." 2D muttered, suddenly feeling a bit guilty if Murdoc was implying that the album wasn't what it should have been. He sincerely hoped that the vocals he had provided were to his liking, and that it was something else that made him feel the way he did. He always wanted please Murdoc when it came to his vocals, and he usually did, so if there was something unsuitable about the album, 2D couldn't help but feel ashamed.

As if Murdoc could read the other man's thoughts, he quickly added, "But it wos nothin' that concerned yer singin', mate."

2D unintentionally blushed a bit, not enough for Murdoc to notice, but enough so 2D could sense his face get warm. "R-really?"

Murdoc nodded. "Actually, the vocals were probably one of the things that made the album worth listening to," Murdoc paused a moment and 2D blushed harder, mentally scolding himself for doing so. "Well, that an' the bass lines, of course," he added, earning a giggle from the bluenette.

"Then … Muds, umm … wot … could 'ave been improved?"

Murdoc stared at the floor for a moment, as if he were trying to find the right words for what he was going to say. When the answer finally came to him, his eyes darted towards the singer and he fixed his eyes on the hollow dents. "The album. It should've been bigger. Better."

2D tilted his head to the side in interest. "B-bigger?"

"Yeh. Bigger. Much, much, _much _bigger."

"How so?"

"Well … it just didn't seem … quite as _earth-shattering _as we proclaimed it to be, ye know?" the bassist inquired, stopping a minute to choose his next words extra-carefully. 2D leaned in closer, wanting to hear more of the Satanist's enlightenment. "Like, it just should 'ave been a cut above wot we made it. It didn't live up to the Gorillaz' expectations. You get me, Stu?"

2D nodded.

Murdoc smiled and wrapped an arm around 2D's shoulder, pulling him closer. "So like, this _new_ album, right? It's gonna be wot _Demon Days_wosn't. 's gonna make up for all that rubbish. This album's gonna make _Demon Days_ seem like a fuckin' warm-up act."

The younger man grinned and chuckled at the bassist, lifeless eyes wide in awe at the his wild fervor over the forthcoming album. Murdoc met 2D's stare and he removed his arm from the boy's shoulder and replaced it with both his hands instead, one on either shoulder; he wanted to make the singer understand just how huge this was going to be for them. 2D's engrossed expression was replaced with a more somber one and his eyes narrowed in doubt, "Gee, Muds. _Demon Days_seemed pretty damn big … to me, anyway … do … do you really fink we'll be able to pull sumfingk like _that_ off?"

Murdoc rolled his eyes and smirked. "Well, yeah. Why not, right? We are _Gorillaz_, after all. We can pull off just about _anything_, really."

2D pursed his lips and pondered on that thought for a moment, thinking of all the fanatical things they had accomplished before, nodding gently in agreement. "Hmm. I guess you're right, Muhdoc."

"Of _course_I'm right, dent'ead." Murdoc scoffed, taking his hands off his friend's shoulders and getting up to walk over to his desk. He grabbed another bottle of rum and expertly popped off the cap with his sharp teeth. He took a swig as he walked back over to the sofa and crashed into it, sighing at the tingling sensation the alcohol left on his tongue. He gazed out the window he had thrown his previous bottle out of, savoring the satisfying thoughts of a brand new album.

"Mmm … and I've already got a name for it, too …" the bassist said, his head snapping towards the other man in delight, a wide smile taking abode on his face.

"Wot? Wot is it?" 2D asked, feeling somewhat grateful and … _impressed _that Murdoc had already planned so much for an album that didn't even exist yet.

"It's … it's a working title … but I wos thinking, maybe … _Plastic Beach_?"

The bluenette gave the bassist a gap-toothed smile, showing the older man of his utmost approval of the name. "_Plastic Beach._Dat's a brilliant name, Muds."

"You think so too?" Murdoc asked, taking another swig of rum.

"Wull … yeah," 2D started, his gaze moving from Murdoc to the floor, as he wanted to make sure he chose his words meticulously, "I mean, like, since the album's gonna be real, real big, like you say 's gonna be, an' dis place … dis … island … Plastic Beach … it's so _massiv_e, yeh?" 2D paused and looked at his bandmate with a tentative expression, wondering if the bassist was grasping what he was trying to say, "I …I fink it fits perfectly, mate."

Murdoc stared at the singer in esteem as he mulled over the his justification of the title, and then he smiled again, his eyelids falling slightly in positive reception of the boy's impression of the title, considering that it was a rare occasion that 2D tried to describe his mangled thoughts. "Hmm. You know, I neva even thought of it that way, Stu."

An abrupt, yet small, almost unnoticeable flicker of admiration coursed through 2D's body, the notion making him blush a little more than he had before. He bit his bottom lip, feeling the dark-haired man's heated glare, the timid feelings arising once more, making a string of cold tremors surge down his spine. But the bluenette brushed those feelings aside and averted his eyes from Murdoc, those mismatched orbs beginning to get the better of Stuart as they glared at him from under the bassist's dark fringe.

Murdoc perceived the other's coyness and chuckled, sensing that the singer was finally starting to return to his normal, dimwitted, defenseless self, much like the Stuart he had known and lived with before. Murdoc took this in with a smirk and turned his attention back to the bottle of rum in his grasp. He took a long swig and licked his lips as that familiar tingling sensation from the alcohol began to kick in. He kept his concentration on the bottle for a moment, toying it with calloused fingers, letting the welcomed, almost consoling silence fall upon the two once more.

Murdoc stole a glance at 2D from the corner of his eye; the singer was still looking a tad uneasy, but compared to what he was like before they'd entered the building, he was fine.

Hence, this seemed like an appropriate time to talk about _other_ things …

At the very thought of having to tell 2D … _everything … _all the horrible things that the youth was _completely_unaware of … all the irrational events that had taken place over the past two and a half years … it made Murdoc's heart sink a bit, and those minute, unusual feelings of remorse and regret formed a small knot in his stomach again. The Satanist had absolutely _no _idea how he was going to be able to explain all of this …

2D let the silence engulf the two of them, allowing his mind to succumb to the pleasure and respite of simply being in Murdoc's presence after being away from him for so long. Thoughts of a brand new album were rushing through his head, and all other feelings of fear and uncertainty disappeared. Sure, they were out in the middle of the ocean, and he didn't fancy _that_much, but Murdoc had proved to him that there was some part of him that had missed the singer, enough to have him gassed and shipped over. 2D didn't really know why this made him so content, maybe it was because he had been alone for quite some time in that dreaded flat of his, or maybe it was just because he had missed Murdoc, too. A lot more than he really wanted to admit.

Suddenly, something snapped inside 2D and he squinted his onyx eyes in confusion and looked around, as if he was forgetting something. Forgetting something … important?

No. Not some_thing_ … some_one._

_Two_ someones, actually.

Turning to face Murdoc again, this time with a rather pleading expression on his face, his gaze fell onto the older man, who, while knowing that the singer was staring at him with what he presumed to be a look of worry and concern, refused to make any eye-contact whatsoever, as he was still trying to assemble his thoughts.

"Muhdoc? Uhh … where're Russel and Noodle?"

The sound of his other bandmate's names hit Murdoc like a ton of bricks, causing him to bring his attention back to reality. His eyes widened in panic, as he was put on the spot in a fairly untouched situation, and he bit his lip to keep his focus on anything but 2D. _'Oh, shit.'_

Stuart was fully aware now that this was a subject that Murdoc obviously did _not _want to negotiate, and a sensation of angst and fear rushed through him, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar with him at this point. He shivered a little, but narrowed his brow and repeated himself, this time with a palpable break in his voice.

Murdoc's head was reeling as he fought to piece together an adequate answer to the boy's question. But every possible answer, he knew, would result in the same thing. There would be only _one_ reaction.

He knew that, once again, he was going to make his singer cry.

Finally fed up with the now painfully unnerving silence, 2D repeated himself again, this time grabbing Murdoc's shoulders and forcing the bass player to face him directly. Murdoc's eyes met with the keyboardist's and the knot in his stomach grew tighter when he saw how absolutely pitiful 2D looked at that very moment.

"2D, I … I don't know where … they are," he muttered austerely, shaking his head in mild disorientation as the words unrelentingly fled his lips. He himself didn't want to belive what he was saying to the younger man, and he honestly had a lot of trouble accepting it a first, but 2D had to know too, no matter how painful it would be to tell him.

Dumbfounded, 2D almost had the audacity to laugh at Murdoc's forthright reply._ 'He mus' be jokin','_he reassured himself, knowing all too well of Murdoc's tendency to stretch the truth and make the singer feel worried for no apparent reason, just for his own sick satisfaction. His hands remained clasped tightly to the bassist's shoulders as he cocked his head to the side mockingly, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his pale lips, "You're jus' joshin', righ'?" he asked the dark-haired man, his tone somewhat pleading, "You … you've _got _to be …"

One look at Murdoc's face told him the complete opposite. Murdoc had always been the one to play jokes on him, cruel or not, and 2D usually got rather sore at him for being so horrible. But in this comprising situation, Stuart was hoping with all his heart that this was all some cruel, nasty joke and at any moment, Murdoc would laugh, too. He would laugh and he would tell 2D that everything was fine. He would reassure the youth that Noodle and Russel were okay. But something in the Satanist's eyes - something that looked a lot like regret - bored into 2D's own and it was then that he realized that this was no joke. Something was terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

What little hope the keyboardist had left in his person vanished completely at that point and he could feel tears prick his eyes, making them sting and burn. Wanting an acceptable explanation from his friend, 2D tightened his grip on Murdoc and shook him a little, asking for the older man to explain himself. But for a moment, Murdoc stayed silent, still trying to piece together the gruesome memories that flew around his head, ones consisting mostly of the unpleasant season he spent searching … searching … for what seemed like an eternity …

"P-please, Muhdoc. T-tell me wot's goin' on." 2D pleaded, his high-pitched voice quivering as he spoke.

"…"

2D shook Murdoc again, this time more forcefully, as he was fed up with the bassist's inability to give a proper answer, completely unaware that the bass player was succumbing to his own dreadful memories. The singer blinked several times as tears pooled out, streaming down his face and leaving glistening, wet trails as they fell from his chin and onto the sofa cushions. The sides of his head pounded as he tried to reconstruct what Murdoc could have possibly meant when he said "I don't know where they are".

He was confused now. _'Dis doesn't make any sense at all! How can 'e _not_know? Muhdoc knows everyfing!'_

2D spoke up again, his voice quivering awfully now, as if he were going to break down at any given moment, "M-Muds … common, mate. You … you found _me_, didn't you? All the way in Beirut! How do you -"

"- I found _you_ because you're not _gone_, you fucking bloody twat!" Mudoc retorted venomously, cutting 2D off and refusing to let him finish his sentence. No. No, it wasn't as easy as just _finding _them. He couldn't _find_ them because they were …

'_Dead,'_a voice in Murdoc head whispered to him. He grunted and shivered violently, rejecting his malevolent inner judgments, not allowing himself to believe anything they said. Only because if he ever _did _accept that very possible thought, as many other's already did, everyone would be pointing the finger at _him_. _He_ would be the one everybody would be blaming for his bandmates' disappearances. This he knew to be true.

Because as unfortunate as it seemed, over time, Murdoc himself had started to think that he _was_ to blame. For … _everything_ …

The last thing he wanted was for others … _especially_ 2D … to start thinking _he_ was the one responsible for the dreadful things that had happened during Gorillaz' two-year hiatus. He had already done such appalling things when the band was _together_, he couldn't allow himself to bear the painfully heavy burden of being the one who caused such repulsive things when they'd all went their separate ways.

2D was now _very_ confused, and a bit scared now, too. _'Gone? Wot's he talkin' about'? Why's everyfing disappearin'? First Kong … now Russel and Noodle! No! This __**can' **__be true!'_

"M-Muhdoc … I … I don' understand! Isn't Noodle … in the Maldives right now?" the bluenette asked warily, as unwanted thoughts of a certain tear-induced video-shoot flashed before his eyes, thoughts he wanted no part of whatsoever. But they played and replayed in his head anyway, all the while adding to the midst of his bewilderment.

Murdoc wanted to just lie and say 'yes' to save himself from giving a tearful explanation of what _really_ happened from March 7th, 2006* to the present, and to save himself from having to watch his singer cry.

A barely audible 'no' was the answer he gave, much to the pianist's dismay.

2D whimpered.

"I don' understand. Dis isn't makin' sense. Where else would she be?" he asked aloud, wondering where the guitarist could have gone, "Is she in Japan? Oh … um … wot was it … Osaka? Or maybe Tokyo?"

Murdoc shook his head, successfully able to keep a straight face while talking to the younger man, which amused him to some extent. _'I thought I'd be in worse shape than the dullard at this point. Jus' gotta stay calm … can' let the boy see me cry …'_

The sides of 2D's head were throbbing now as he tried to think, but new tears were welling in his eyes, hazing his vision, letting him know that this conversation was not going to end in a very pleasant way.

But still, 2D spat out places he thought little Noodle could've been residing, "E-England, maybe? Is she back home?" _'Wait. Wot am I sayin'? Wot __**home**__? Kong's gone now. Why would Noodle be in Essex?'_

Murdoc shook his head again and sighed, listening and watching as 2D blurted out answer after answer, every one of them being more and more wrong. He growled in frustration and clamped 2D's mouth shut with his hand, earning a muffled yelp from the youth. He glared at 2D from under his fringe, feeling angry all of a sudden. Mostly at himself, for his own reasons of course, but at 2D as well, for being so hopeful for Noodle's well-being. All Stuart was doing was making the Satanist feel worse.

Murdoc took a deep breath, steadying himself, "Look, 2D. I'm going to explain this as bluntly and straightforwardly as I possibly can, for your sake."

2D nodded in compliance.

He removed his hand from 2D's mouth and cleared his throat, "Erm … so, you know how the whole … El Manana video shoot went down, yeah?"

2D's heart stopped suddenly and his throat went dry, but he nodded again meekly.

"You know wot wos supposed to 'appen afterwards?"

2D swallowed his desolation and whimpered, "Y-yeah. Umm … wosn't … wosn't Noodle s'posed ta flee to the Maldives … after she p-parachuted off the … Windmill Island?" 2D tried his best to re-hash those horrifying images of the infamous Windmill Island, even though it pained him to do so, suddenly able to remember everything clearly.

"Yes, well, it would appear that not everything went as planned," Murdoc stated, hating himself for having to be the one to explain all this to his front-man.

"…"

"See, Noodle_ did_ parachute off ... and she was _supposed_ to flee to the Maldives, but I don' think she ever even made it there."

2D's stomach churned, _'Oh, no …'_

Murdoc paused a second to gather his thoughts, watching his friend's expression change drastically. He watched 2D's dents fill with tears that were on the brink of release, and he listened to his singer's ragged breathing, as if he were about to start bawling then and there. Of course, Murdoc couldn't blame him. Explaining all this to the youth was just as distressing for the Satanist as it was for 2D.

The bass player suddenly felt ashamed, more so than he had before, and he averted his eyes from 2D, unable to look at him. "I … see, before I left Kong, 2D, I got this message. A … a radio transmission."

2D took notice that Murdoc refused to look at him directly. At this point there was no use trying to sugar-coat anything, because he was fully aware that something grave must had happened to their little guitarist. Fearing the very worst, 2D could feel the stinging in his eyes and his stomach was in knots, making him nauseated.

"It wos from Noodle," Murdoc continued, as he was mentally brought back to when he had first listened to Noodle's initial distress call, the one the rest of the band was supposed to hear. He remembered hearing the strange sound of a little girl's voice coming from the boiler area, and he had left his Winnebago to investigate further. He never expected to get the emergency call from his guitarist, who, by the sound of it, was in some pretty deep shit.

He remembered playing back the call again and again, trying to figure out what Noodle was saying, listening to her surroundings, trying to come to a conclusion as to where she was, and how she could have possibly gotten there. He didn't answer, he didn't know how to. He had no idea how Noodle was able to contact Kong Studios if she was in the Maldives. But it wasn't until he had received her second call that he finally realized where she really was.

Murdoc had to shake his head and blink several times to bring his attention back to 2D, his thoughts and memories engulfing him once more. It was becoming a bad habit, and he was angered towards himself for not being able to explain all this fast enough. "She … I … I think Noodle's in Hell, 2D."

2D's eyes widened in disbelief and horror as the hideous truth was revealed. Tears immediately spilled over, running down his crimson checks and staining his clothes. Murdoc continued talking, bringing to light his time in Hell looking for their abandoned little girl. He kept talking, but 2D couldn't make anything of it; he wasn't able to register the fact that Noodle was actually in _Hell. _Murdoc had gone _to Hell_ to look for her.

2D started to cry. He shut his eyes tightly and sobbed, confusion and grief overwhelming his senses. '_'ow can Noodle be in Hell? 'ow could she 'ave gotten there? Why is she even there in the first place? Noodle's always been a good lil' girl! She shouldn't be there! She doesn't deserve ta be there!'_

He was so, so, _so _confused. If Noodle was in Hell, did that mean she was _dead_?

No … if Noodle was dead, Murdoc would have handled this situation much, much differently. It was obvious to 2D that Murdoc lacked the feeling of sorrow, but if Noodle had somehow died, then Murdoc would have been crying, too.

Stuart had many more questions to ask the bassist, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess and he had a massive migraine now. His heart was hurting and he desperately wanted to know more about Noodle's whereabouts, but something inside him kept him from speaking, which he allowed to take control. He just sat there and cried.

Murdoc had long since stopped talking, because he was at the point where if he had chosen to continue, he was most likely going to end up like 2D. It was just as confusing for Murdoc, and he honestly hated thinking about it. Talking about it just made him feel horrid, disgusting. No, Noodle didn't deserve to be in Hell. _Ever. _She never did anything _wrong_, andMurdoc never actually found out how she had initially gotten there. It was rumored that she had been dragged down there in place of Russel, but Murdoc couldn't bring himself to tell that to his singer, who was already disheveled and wailing.

Murdoc had made it clear to 2D that he had failed to find Noodle during his time in Hell, a fact which he loathed in all its entirety, and he knew that things had to stop there. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, and he knew 2D didn't want to hear any more, either. So telling the boy that the choppers in the El Manana video were different that the ones in the Feel Good Inc. video, that the gunshots were real, the bomb was real, and that all Noodle's fear was real was _completely_ out of the question. 2D was not going to handle _that_ well at _all_, though Murdoc knew that the youth was going to find out sooner or later. Later of course being the evident, more appropriate alternative.

"Russel's gone missing, too …" Murdoc managed to inadvertently utter out in the midst of 2D's cries, knowing that he was only making the matter worse. Though, 2D had every right to know what was going on.

But 2D didn't even _want_ to consider where Russel could _possibly_be. His sobbing grew louder and he made himself more upset by just thinking about their little girl and drummer, who had been through so much already. He gripped the sofa cushions as bearings, digging his fingernails into the sides to relieve his frustrations. His body was hunched over now and he raised his hands to hold his throbbing head as it stung his temples in painful convulsions. He looked so pitiful and forlorn and helpless, and Murdoc had to watch it and listen to all of it.

Without doing much thinking, Murdoc outstretched his arm and grabbed 2D by the shoulder, holding him close. 2D knew that this was very much out of character for his friend so he let himself go limp as he sobbed onto Murdoc's chest, tugging and clawing at his shirt as he did so.

The bassist had no idea what he was doing or what possessed him to comfort 2D like this; it just seemed like the right thing to do. He refused to just sit there and watch his singer break down. Yes, usually such actions brought him immense pleasure and a dominant feeling would rush through him, but this situation was different, by all means. 2D needed consolidation. And Murdoc needed it too. So he wrapped his other arm around 2D and hugged him tightly, tears now stinging at his own eyes as they fell.

No more words were exchanged between the two from that moment. They just held each other securely and neither wanted to let go. Murdoc whispered soothing things in 2D's ear in attempts to calm him down and started stroking his soft blue hair. Stuart had began to settle, and after a few minutes only low, quiet heaves and pants escaped his lips. His eyes remained closed though, and he refused to let go of the bass player.

In his mind, Murdoc reassured himself that everything was going to be okay. Noodle and Russel's whereabouts where still unknown and he hated knowing that, he hated that he couldn't do anything about it.

But he was thankful that he had 2D.

He had 2D, and everything was going to go just as he had planned it.

**AC: Okay, then! Chapter Two FINISHED. I was planning on making this chapter much shorter. I wasn't going to have Murdoc explain the whole 'Russel/Noodle' ordeal in dialouge. But I decided against that, evidently. Also, I'll try to write Chapter Three more quickly ... ^_^**

**To be honest, I teared up while typing up this chapter. It's sad knowing how much Noodle's been through these past few years, if she'd really gone to Hell. D'X**

***March 7th 2006 was the day Gorillaz shot the footage for _El Manana._**


End file.
